Precious Metal Shipping Novels & Stories

Elyra slid one of the papers toward him. “Look at this.” Zevarion glanced down. “Shipment records.” “Yes. But focus on this column.” He followed where she pointed. “F.V.” Zevarion’s expression didn’t change. “What about it?” “It appears only in high-value shipments,” Elyra said. “And only from Silver Crest.” Zevarion leaned back slightly. “That’s an internal code.” “For what?” “Authorized verification.” Elyra narrowed her eyes slightly. “Are you sure?”

I could feel the heat radiating from his broad shoulders, and I knew my presence tortured him. "This is the main server portal," Kade began, turning the silver laptop so we both had a clear view of the bright screen. He typed a long string of numbers into the password box. "We use a legitimate international shipping logistics company to mask the movement of our private cargo. On the surface, the company transports heavy machinery and commercial textiles across Europe and North America." "And underneath the surface?" I asked, keeping my tone professional and detached.

Mahmoud shook John’s hand firmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” John nodded. “Likewise.” Mahmoud tapped a tablet and projected a map. Gold mines across North Africa. Trade routes across the Middle East. “My family controls significant gold exports.” Mei’s eyes widened. “That’s billions in precious metals.” Mahmoud smiled. “More than billions.” He pointed at John’s shipping network. “If we move our gold shipments through your logistics system…” “Under the Edison umbrella…” The numbers appeared instantly. Sam processed them.

The old man continued to ask after drinking a cup of tea. “Sir, I want to sell some goods to Treasure Trove. I wonder if you will accept them.” Marlee asked back. “Miss, you’re hilarious. As long as it is valuable, there is nothing Treasure Trove won’t accept,” the old man replied with a smile. “Then I want to sell some ores to your trading company.” “What ores?” “Ores for refining weapons. Raw nuclear magnetic ores.” “Oh? Raw nuclear magnetic ores? How many?” “The whole ship’s cargo weighs about 3 million kg.”

After Damien’s nagging questions about Julian, I had made up my mind to delve deeper, as something about that place didn’t feel right, and there just had to be a part we were missing. I found a coded message, hidden in a hacked email which read, Silver shipment, midnight, Crescent dock. Liquid silver. I felt my blood run cold. Julian and his pack were knee-deep in this stuff, I knew, and if they were selling that sort of poison, what Gideon had found out was only the beginning. I rubbed my eyes, the gravity of it pressing in.

“She’s an heiress!” I glanced back at the polished woman and pursed my lips. Of course, she was born with a silver spoon. “Hughes Industries? Why does that sound familiar?” I asked, watching Ryan flash a dimple as he smiled at his girlfriend. Grace whispered excitedly. “They produce the highest quality precious stones and metals on the market. Several jewelry companies are fighting for an exclusivity contract with them.” “Oh yes, I remember now.” I said, eyebrows shooting up. “In design school, our professors always said if we wanted the best materials, we had to hunt down Hughes.”

Sheesha was something, Musa didn't like on daily basis but he didn't mind it once in a while. "Yeah, I am coming. Okay? Talk to you later." With that, he cut the call. Entering his room he made his way to the walk-in closet that held the most exclusive and expensive watches, shoes, perfumes, belts, and clothes. Opening a drawer that has the most precious watches in it, he picked out his favorite Rolex watch.

I love my job; each day is a different adventure. New personalities walk through my door, needing my help each day. It doesn’t hurt that they pay me close to four figures an hour per consultation. Most of the time the client has a real issue that they need my help with, some kind of abuse or an addiction, then I have clients like these.

"Understood." The warehouse on Fifth isn't even the operation that matters most. The real business runs through the scrapyard off the ship channel, cleaned up two years ago and repurposed as a private cargo port for legitimate businesses on paper, and as our main artery for everything coming up from the Gulf underneath that paper. Product comes in disguised as scrap metal shipments, gets sorted and moved out through three different trucking companies we own outright, and from there it goes wherever the buyers are, split according to territory.

“Hello, am I speaking with the Master of Silvercrest Holdings, Collins Parker? My runner has arrived at the perimeter with a heavy transport crate for your den. Should my unit deposit the cargo at the outer collection post, or navigate directly to your villa porch?” I froze for a heartbeat, my silver gaze tracking the frosted windshield. “Direct the transport to my porch. My enforcers are currently guarding the main doors.” My fingers had not authorized any digital trade transactions recently, leaving my mind to wonder which northern house had authorized the shipment. Once the frequency went dead, I composed my features, stepped hard on the throttle, and drove the runner back onto the froste